Hostage
by NeddaofNaught
Summary: My name is Theo. In Gotham City, I'm a no-name undergraduate just looking to finish up her degree at Gotham University and get away from my less than spotless past. Too bad that past will come back to bite me when I'm taken hostage by the Joker.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Okey-dokey, so this is my first post/attempt at a Joker Fanfic. I do not own the Joker, and honestly, though I love the character, I don't think I would like to own him.**

**I don't think he'd want me to own him either.**

**But anyway, yea... read on. Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**

The first thing I noticed when I regained consciousness was the intense migraine that pounded through the front of my brain. The next thing I noticed directly after that was the intense urge to blow chunks; which is exactly what I did.

Apparently, and thankfully, someone else was aware of this intense feeling, and before I could spew all over my jeans, I was forced up off my back to lean my head over a waiting bucket. Regurgitating my last meal didn't exactly help my migraine.

"Ugh… see, that's the only thing I can't stand about chloroform. It has such _messy_ side affects," a nasally voice rose up over the gurgling of my painful retching, and I looked up to see where it came from. A man dressed in a ridiculous purple suit paced –well, truthfully, he _sauntered_- back in forth a few feet away from me, flicking a silver switchblade in his hand. He shrugged, "Meh, merely a small price to pay for the convenience it allows in transporting … uh, _difficult _cargo."

I only stared at him in response before I commenced hurling into the bucket again. I coughed, tears streaming down my face from gagging on my own bile.

"Ow…" The pain in my skull felt akin to what one might feel if a body builder smashed an axe into their forehead… if they lived through it to actually feel the pain, that is. After I was sure that I had nothing left in my stomach to choke up, I fell back, limp. It was when I fell back that I noticed my hands where bound behind me.

"Whoa, whoa… sit up there, Sick-y. I need your full attention," The man in the stupid suit strode over to me and lifted me by my shirt collar again. Despite the blinding pain in my head, my eyes were well focused enough, and as he hauled me upright again, I got a good look at his face. His countenance sported a carved smile and countless other scares around his lips, which were smeared with red lipstick. His dark eyes were encased with black, which stood out profoundly against a chalk white base. You'd have to have horrible short term memory to live in Gotham and not recognize this face. It was the Joker's, and from that point on, I knew, I was royally _screwed_.

I was too weak to fight the harlequin from Hell when he shoved pills into my mouth. He poured water into my mouth and ordered, "Swallow." When I didn't immediately oblige, he looked me straight in the eye, "Trust me, Toots, you don't _want _me to _force _them down." I swallowed the pills and water, the liquid soothing my burning throat. The Joker patted my face, "Good girl!"

The back of my shoulders slammed against a nearby wall as he practically threw me from his grasp. I blinked a few times, clearing my watery eyes. I noticed that the room we were in wasn't very big. The walls were covered in brown, peeling wallpaper, and the only furniture I could see in the dim, fluorescent light were an antique desk and chair. The thing I was now sitting on was a cushy, over large pillow. The distinct odor told me it was a dog bed. _Oh, that's degrading… _I also noticed that there was only one other person in the room with us. He was a burly looking chap with broad shoulders, and his slightly aged face was stippled with five o'clock shadow. I surmised he was the one who held me up to puke… I'll have to thank him later.

The Joker stood back up to his full height and walked back over to the spot where he was pacing. He pinched his nose and waved his hand in a slightly dainty fashion at his thug, motioning for him to leave. He did just that, taking the hint to take the bucket of puke with him. "Jeez, girly, what did you _eat_?"

As a few minutes passed, I realized that the pills he gave me must have been extra strength Tylenol or something, because the pulsing pain in my head dulled a bit, so I no longer heard the blood pumping in my ears. The joker pulled the rickety chair up next to me, sitting in it backwards. His purple pants rode up as he straddled the chair, revealing tacky argyle socks. I looked up at him, but quickly looked down. Something about his gaze scared the piss out of me. He didn't say anything; his head rested on the back of the chair, over his folded arms. His posture looked innocent, but his gaze was… maddening. The silence was very uncomfortable; I hated silence. The whole staring thing didn't make it any less uncomfortable. Blinking at my lap, I started thinking of the ways I could break the silence, because obviously he wasn't going to. I went with the most obvious way, "Ugh… Where am I?"

I chanced a glance at him, and was relieved that he had broken his gaze from me. His brow furrowed briefly, eyes shifting from side to side, "Uh, I thought it was obvious?" He looked down at me again, like I was stupid, "It's a room."

I muttered down at my lap, "No shit, smart ass." He didn't hear me, because he was up again, now pacing in the middle of the room, playing with the blade again. He continued talking as he paced, heel to toe, "Besides, the question you should be asking is _why, _not where. Because… See, the _why _part is much more important… In that, it determines whether you live to see the end of this… uh, this _or-dee-uhl_."

My head snapped up as he uttered the vague threat. I narrowed my eyes at him, then asked, "Okay… why?"

"Why what?" he quipped, not looking at me. He turned on his heel and paced heel to toe towards the only small window in the room.

I gave a sigh of exasperation. A lot of people who had experienced this guy first hand said he was terrifying, disturbing, sadistic… I expected this from him. Right now, I wasn't exactly feeling fear of him, more like _irritation_ of him…

I tried asking the question again, a tone of impertinence laced in the inquiry, "_Why _am I here?"

The answer I got was a sharp back hand across the face. The force sent my head sharply to the side, knocking me over. The clown then seized me by my collar and hauled me to my feet, pressing my back against the wall. Though his actions were violent, his face was extremely, _eerily,_ calm. Those dark eyes bore into mine, like they were trying to look into my soul and tear it to shreds.

_Oh, _there _is the fear…_

He clicked his tongue, as though he were scolding a child, "Don't take that tone with me, _missy_. Insolence is a nasty little pet peeve of mine. It insinuates disrespect… and I don't like that either." He released his steel grip, and I fell heavily on my knees at his feet. The Joker straightened his collar, and walked away from me. He opened the door to leave, but before he exited, he turned to face me again. "And, in response to your _quest-ee-on…_ Why would I tell you that?" With a mad titter, he slammed the door closed with unnecessary force. A soft click followed shortly after.

My shoulders slumped forward as I released a short breath. I shifted from my knees to my butt so I could lean my back against the wall. I worked my sore jaw; damn he hit's hard. That wiry body is _very_ misleading.

In the silence of the dingy room, I thought about my situation, and how utterly pathetic it was. Here I was, bound by the wrists with biting plastic cord, sitting on a dog bed that smells like it hadn't been washed since Jesus was crucified, in a room that a troll would find cozy. I shivered, feeling goose pimples cover the bare skin of my arms.

"Well, at least I still have light," I said aloud, allowing some rare optimism to show through. Suddenly, as only my luck would have it, the dim light bulb flickered and burned out, casting the dank room in shadows. My head fell back against the wall in exasperation, lifting my gaze to the water stained ceiling.

"God, this sucks."

**So, Whaddya think?**

**I'm not exactly sure where I am gong with this, and inspiration is lacking these days. So, if anyone has any ideas that they would like to share, please, by all means, share.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Ugh… He-Hey! I'm a horrible Fanfiction writer. How far apart are the first and second chapters? **

**Well, I'm now Jack Rabbit when it comes to writing, but I hope your patience pays off with this chapter. It's just a bit of Dialogue between characters. ******

I don't have a watch, which is really depressing. My perception of time is usually completely incorrect, so I have no idea how long I have been sitting on this pathetic excuse for a dog pillow in this pathetic excuse for a room.

Lately, my favorite hobby has been deciphering shapes out of the water stains in the ceiling. Not the most stimulating past time, but it helps me forget the disgusting smell rising up from the thin pillow beneath me.

After a long while of staring aimlessly about the disgusting room, I feel my hands and lower arms go numb. This is really not good. The plastic cord is extremely tight, and I really don't want the circulation to be cut off in my hands. I rather like my hands; they are useful and I would love to keep them.

And, to add to my discomfort, my nose began to itch.

Taking a deep breath, I shift from my butt back onto me knees. Glaring in determination at the wall in front of me, I try to wrench my hands over my behind. It takes a while for me to do this; a combination of short arms and a particularly large butt makes this first part a little difficult. With a low grunt, I manage to stretch my short arms over my ass, so they rest behind my knees. "Okay, hard part done with," I said, puffing from the exertion.

Slowly, I lifted my left foot and slid my bound wrists under it, moving them in front of it. "Yes! -Oh, Shit!-Umph!"

How did I know I was going to fall over?

Blowing my bangs out of my eyes, I wrench the other foot through my arms, so my hands were now bound in front of me. "There, now, at least I will be slightly comfortable."

I bring my hands in front of my face… and grimace.

My hands had begun to turn purple, but the purple was fading, and my wrists were quickly forming similarly colored bruises. I wiggled my thin digits, relieved that I could still feel them. I scratched my face furiously, and sighed.

I looked towards the only door in my room- I mean, _the _room; no way in hell would I claim a place like this- and I see moving shadows from the particularly wide gap between the door and the floor. The shadows in the dim light move in a slightly rhythmic pattern from one side to the other. There's no childish gate about it, more leisurely, slow; almost contemplative. I can assume two things about my guard-One: it's not the Joker; it's far too stable to be that freak-show reject. And two: whoever is guarding me has something weighing on his mind.

_Well, I'm bored. Why don't we have a talk with Mr. Restless?_

"He- gack!" I cough. Damn, my throat is dry. Clearing my throat, I try again, "Hey! Hey, you; the one pacing outside, there!" The shadow stops dead in the middle, shifting closer to the door. He's listening, but he doesn't answer. _Oh, that won't do._

"Hey, I'm talking to you! The least you could do is answer!" Yea, I am deliberately pissing this person off, but I don't care. My rudeness works, and I am satisfied to hear the lock jingling and the hinges of the door creak. The puke bucket guy from before sticks is bald head in and barks, "What?"

Well, it wasn't a bark, more like a loud grunt. The guy's voice sounded like he had gravel in his throat.

I smile crookedly at him, and say, "Ugh, Hi."

He gives me a deadpan look, then makes to close the door. "Hey, wait!"

He sticks his head back in and looks agitated, "Look, kid, I'm not in the mood for playing games—"

"I know, I know. I just wanted to say… uh… Thanks." I smile again, and he quirks a non-existing eyebrow.

"What for?" he asks, stepping fully into the room. I realize then how huge this guy is.

"You know, for holding my hair earlier," I shrug my shoulders, "Any other thug wouldn't really care. But, you did. So, thanks."

He's a little thrown off by my gratitude, but he shakes it off. He stammers at first, but eventually returns, "Uh, you're welcome."

I nod, rubbing my lips together in that awkward way that I do. He stands in the doorway for a moment; another awkward silence.

He clears his throat, glances out in the hallway again, and then looks back at me. I quirk my head to the side and stare back. I widen my green eyes in an innocent, doe-like way. The corner of my mouth twitched in a half smirk.

His eyes narrow at me suspiciously. He leans against the door frame, crossing his tree trunk arms across his large chest, and finally said, with a heavy amount of resolution, "Something's wrong with you."

I coughed out a short laugh. "Why do you say that?" I asked. He didn't hesitate in his answer, "Because, you are too damn amused to be in your situation. You are aware that the deadliest criminal in all of Gotham has kidnapped you and is holding you hostage?"

I nodded, biting my lower lip. "Everyone has there way of coping with stressful situations. Finding the amusing side of the situation keeps me from losing my mind."

He quirked his hair-less brow once again, eyes still narrowed at me, "That's a strange way to relieve stress." He surveyed me a bit more, then added, "You don't even seem scared."

"Oh, don't fret," I assured him, waving my bound hands in a dismissive manner, "I am frightened. I mean, I don't really know if I'm going to survive this whole… _whatever_ the Joker has planned for me. I hope I will, but I have no control over the outcome," I winced a little, and tightened my thighs together as I felt the growing pressure in my bladder. _Man, I could use a bathroom break…_

My eyes widened in realization, and the proverbial light bulb flicked back to life in my mind.

"You okay?" Mr. Restless asked, slightly concerned.

I blinked and quickly replied, " Oh, yea, yea I'm fine. It's just…"

He stepped in the room a bit more. "What is it?"

_I have a plan, _I thought deviously. A sheepish grin plastered itself on my face, and I said in a tiny squeak, "… I have to use the restroom."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Getting out of that putrid room has allowed me to measure up my surroundings more sufficiently than before. My "holding cell", so to speak, is one of four different rooms off of a narrow hallway. From what my guard tells me, the one door on the very end is the bathroom, which is where we were headed anyway. From my vantage point, I managed to catch a glimpse of a stair case positioned on the opposite end of the hallway from the bathroom, about 10 paces away from the door of the holding cell.

Also, I noticed something rather mind-blowing: the rest of the house- well, the hallway, at least- looked _exactly _like the room I was staying in. Same dim lighting, same ceiling water stains, same disgusting wallpaper. God, this place is depressing.

"Okay," the bald guy lacking eyebrows sighed as we reached the bathroom door, "Make it quick."

I looked at him, looked at the door, looked at my bound hands, and back at him again. I thrust my bound hands into his field of vision and gave him a pointed look.

The hairless brow furrowed in confusion, "What?"

"Um, I don't know about you, but I need free hands in order to do business, and I certainly don't think _either _of us want you to help me in there," I said, thrusting my hands into his face again, "So, If you don't mind…."

He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously, hesitating to unbind me. I released a frustrated sigh, "Look we can sit here and argue about this all you want, but if the Joker asks, it was _you _who decided to let me piss myself instead of allowing a brief reprieve. And, if you ask me, I don't think allowing his prisoner to soil herself will leave you in his good graces."

He growled a bit under his breathe, but then begrudgingly ground out, "Fine." He pulled out a huge knife to cut the restrictive cords. Once the cord fell to the floor, he roughly grabbed my wrists in warning, "But if you try anything-,"

I cut him off before he could finish his threat, "Do you honestly think I'd be that stupid?"

The guard simply glared at me and said, "2 minutes."

_Plenty of time, _I thought, opening and closing the door quickly behind me. My eyes widened at the site of the, uh, _lavatory. _"Oh, this is just disgusting." The place reeked of some horrid odor that smelled like someone literally soiled the entire room and then tried to clean the place with bleach. Of course, the small room had dirt and grime piled up in the corners and ground in between the floor tiles. The combination tub/shower… God, it was the worst. I don't think it was ever used for purposes of personal hygiene. I'm forever grateful to the person who took it upon themselves to at least keep the toilet clean.

Aside from the soiled condition of the bathroom, I was overjoyed to see the one thing that I had so dearly hoped it would have- a window. _And it doesn't have a lock either!_

That window was my ticket out of there.

I quickly relieved myself so I could execute my slightly impromptu escape plan. Yes, I know, it's a little early in the game to try to escape, but I honestly do not want to stick around to find out what was in store for me. The sooner I can get out the better.

I closed the lid of the toilet quietly, and stood on top of it to reach the window. The latch had been broken off long ago, but when I tried to nudge the thing open, it wouldn't move. "Damn." I put more pressure on it this time, using my whole upper body to push this thing up. I stopped pushing when I heard the splintering of wood. "Shit."

The guard pounded on the door from the other side, "Alright, times up."

"Wait, I, uh…..," _Come on, Theo, think!_ I looked around the dingy bathroom, searching for an excuse.

"I'm, uh, having….issues?" I cringed. _God, I'm retarded…_

The guard was quiet for a moment. I took the chance to quietly lift the window. It got stuck about half way up, but the opening was large enough for me to fit my body through. I stuck my head out to see how high up I really was. The house I was being held captive in, I've discovered, is actually an old brownstone, complete with a handy-dandy fire-escape along the side. The steel steps that crossed by the window were only two feet below the sill. I also noticed how far away the ground was.

_Damn you, vertigo_.

"Look, kid," the guard yelled, "I am not in the mood for games. Now either you willingly exit the bathroom, or I-," The guard stopped short. I heard another voice outside the door; a very familiar one.

_Shit. _Pushing through my fear of heights,I stuck my arms out the window and clung to the decorative shutters on the sides. _Don't look down, don't look down, don't… look…down._ As I pulled my upper body out the window, I heard the familiar voice curse at the guard. A gunblast split the air, causing me to shriek and loosen my grip.

My fingers slipped completely, and my torso fell the rest of its way out the window, sending me headfirst towards the jagged steel steps of the fire escape. I flung my arms up around my head, cringing in anticipation of the painful impact.

_Oh, God I'm gonna die!_

Fortunately, that painful impact never came. Instead, I just… hung there, dangling just above the rusty fire escape. Firm hands grasped my knees, preventing my fall.

_Do I dare look up to see who saved my life?_

I glanced up, and immediately regretted it. _Oh, irony… how I love thee. _

My savior glared down at me, his pale, painted face twisted in an angry, straining scowl. The Joker gripped my thighs and began hoisting me back up through the bathroom window. I didn't struggle; when my options are reduced to falling and breaking my neck or being forced into the company of a psychotic clown, I choose the option that does not include heights.

"Give me your hands," he ordered, and I obliged. Once I was back in the dingy lavatory, he grabbed me by the throat and shoved me against the wall. He flipped out a switch blade and held it in front of my face. I clawed at his gloved hand, struggling to breathe.

"Now, now, there's no point in struggling, you'll only wear your wittle self out," he chided, tightening his grip in my neck. I stopped clawing, but I still grasped at his hand.

"Oh, Theo," he shook his head, "Theo, Theo, Theo… I turn my back on you for a few hours, and you try to _escape_?" He chuckled. "Though I am… _thoroughly_ dis-ap-poin-ted that you wanted to run out on me, I must say, you got _spunk._ You manipulated Baldy over there quite well." He jerked his head behind him and moved slightly to the side.

What I saw behind him twisted my guts.

My former guard's corpse lay slumped against the wall, eyes wide in permanent terror. The top of his bald skull had been shattered, splattering brain matter over the wall behind him. My eyes darted back to the crazed clown, an amused grin on his face.

He giggled again, "I think you charmed him a little _too_ well. Hee-hee…Now," The Joker stroked the side of my face with the blade, "Don't fret, I have _no_ intention of doing the same thing to you. If I wanted to kill you now, I would have just let you fall. No, no."

_Well, there's some good news, _I thought bitterly.

"However," his tone dropped dangerously low as he brought the knife tip to the corner of my mouth, "That doesn't mean that your attempted vanishing act will go unpunished."

He grazed the blade along my cheek, trailing the tip to my ear. My breathing was shallow from fear and the death grip he had on my windpipe. The blade stopped just under my ear lobe. Meeting my eyes, he whispered, "Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face."

He pressed the blade into the flesh of my ear, and I screamed out in pain.

In one swift movement, he sliced the lower half of my ear off. I dropped to the floor when he released me, and curled into a ball. I clutched my mutilated ear and continued to sob in pain.

The sadistic bastard threw the severed piece of flesh into the dingy sink, and rinsed his gloves of blood. Another one of his henchmen had been standing outside the door the whole time, waiting for his boss to give orders.

"Take my guest back to her room," he said casually, "and, uh, be sure she gets that ear looked at." He glanced down at me, "Can't have you dying from some infection, now can we?"

The henchmen nodded, and proceeded to hoist the trembling mass that was I from the syphilis-coated bathroom floor. I still clutched my ear, not really caring that my shoulder and hand were drenched in my own blood.


End file.
